


ace frehley, peter criss

by sickgirl_mp3



Category: None - Fandom
Genre: Other, ah life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 03:35:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13286142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sickgirl_mp3/pseuds/sickgirl_mp3





	ace frehley, peter criss

I. “Is God real?”

 

Jordan’s mind goes blank as JJ determinedly tugs at his hand and gets him to spin around with her as they play at the park at sunset. He was sure she’d ask that kind of question when she was around 9 or 10, not when she was six years old, because then he’d be able to give her an “I don’t know” and it’d be a little more easily accepted.

 

Jordan shrugs. “I dunno.”

 

“What do you mean you don’t know? You’re supposed to know everything, I heard you tell Mom that like yesterday,” JJ says innocently, dragging her father to the swingset.

 

Jordan watches as she gets onto the swing with a little struggle. He  _ does  _ recall telling his wife that he knows everything, but it was because she called him a know-it-all and he  _ had  _ to retaliate. 

 

“Nobody knows everything for real, Twin,” Jordan says as he pushes JJ on the swing.

 

“Not even you?” she asks.

 

“Not even me.”

 

“But when I hung out at your office and you said that I couldn’t have your coffee ‘cause it stunts my growth,” JJ tells Jordan, “and then you went to the bathroom and while you were gone- which you were gone for a REALLY long time, Dad- Ms. Harper told me that you were a know-it-all and she took me to Starbursts and let me have a Frappucino.”

 

“How can you pronounce ‘Frappucino’ but not ‘Starbucks?’” Jordan asks.

 

“I’m really smart, but I’m only six.”

 

“Noted. And next time Ms. Harper tries that stuff-”

 

“I’m gonna hang out with her more, she’s cool,” JJ says happily.

 

“‘Cause she gave you coffee?” 

 

“‘Cause she lets me play games on her computer AND she plays me my favorite music.”

 

“What games do you play on the computer?” Jordan asks, watching as JJ goes higher and higher on the swing.

 

“My dog game. Harper got it just for me,” JJ says with a smile.

 

Jordan… loves JJ. There’s no skirting around the fact, either; she is everything and nothing like him, the same with her mother. Some days, he thinks, the only thing that ties them together is the fact that they’re father and daughter. Other days, he swears they were siblings in a past life.

 

“Dogs, huh?” Jordan says, moving in front of the swing because JJ looks like she’s about to jump.

 

JJ pushes her legs with all her might (she’s surprisingly strong for a six year old, he has the bruises to prove it) and flies off of the swing, landing right in Jordan’s arms. He thinks catching kids who are almost too big to be carried around anymore (oh, he’s dying, she can’t get older, he’ll wither away) should be an Olympic sport.

 

“We gotta talk,” JJ says as Jordan sits on the swing and she climbs up to his shoulders. She sounds like he does when he’s absolutely smacked, but getting things done nonetheless: Pressed, but cool.

 

“About?” Jordan asks, dragging the middle sound out, standing up and almost falling backwards because he’s surprised by JJ grabbing his hair roughly so she won’t fall even though he’s quite literally holding her legs.

 

“God. Is he real?” 

 

Jordan sighs. Sometimes he thinks about having a dumb kid, one that doesn’t care about shit like this, but he disregards those thoughts because JJ is too special to just wish away like that. He thinks he’s kill himself if he had a kid that wasn’t her.

 

“Lemme ask you something. What do  _ you  _ think?” Jordan asks.

 

“Kinda sucks that I gotta believe somethin’ I can’t see,” she says thoughtfully.

 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Jordan says honestly.

 

“I want to, it’s fine,” JJ says as if she’s some adult having an intelligent conversation and refusing to take no for an answer because she offered to do something for someone and they’re humbly refusing, “I just wish he would post up.”

 

Jordan almost yells. “Post up?”

 

“Kobe told me that on the phone so I asked what it means and he said it means that you gotta show up,” JJ explains.

 

Jordan is glad she heard Kobe say it and not Beyoncé, who says it much more often than him.

 

“Noted. But you can see God in things,” Jordan says. He knows he’s right, too; as soon as he saw his child and her mother, he saw. He’s not as religious as he should be, not by a long shot, but he knows divinity when he sees it. He knows. He won’t say it, but deep down, the feeling is unmistakable. He can’t find another explanation for it, it’s divine intervention that brought his two favorite people into his life when God knows he didn’t and still somewhat doesn’t deserve either of them.

 

“Like?” JJ asks.

 

“Like, when you see something real cool, like a sunset, or two birds sitting in a tree, or your mom, or a snow day,” Jordan explains. Extra emphasis on JJ’s mother. Fuck.

 

“Really?” 

 

“Really.”

 

“So I could see Buttercup and Rocky being friends and be like, ‘God, ohmygodthat’ssocoooool,’ right?”

 

Jordan laughs. 

 

“You could, kid. You could,” Jordan says.

 

JJ pats Jordan on the head. “This sunset is cool,” she says, pausing momentarily before continuing, “God.”

 

“God?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Then that’s the answer to your question.”

 

Jordan and JJ had the same question; she helped him answer it. He didn’t even know he knew. Maybe he  _ does  _ know everything.

 

* * *

 

 

    II. “DAD?” JJ yells from the top of the staircase.

 

Jordan keeps kissing Beyoncé, not bothering to move from under her and off the couch. It’s wrong, but JJ is 16, she’s capable of most things. She’ll live. He’s busy. With his arms around Beyoncé as she sits in his lap, he squeezes her tight, kissing along her jaw and humming happily. Beyoncé holds his face and pecks him on the lips, and they keep kissing like that, giggling quietly like they’re teenagers embracing for the first time. It always feels like the first time to him, so he’s fine. They start taking turns pecking each other on the lips, even when JJ can be heard coming downstairs. When Jordan hears her getting closer he steals one last kiss, opening one eye and looking at a very disgusted JJ.

 

“Can you guys stop? Ew.”

 

“Can  _ you  _ stop?” Beyoncé asks. 

 

“You guys are gross,” JJ says. 

 

“You know something real cool?” Jordan asks. 

 

“What?” JJ responds.

 

“We have a real big house. You can go anywhere in it and not have to see us right now. You can even go play outside. Crazy, right?”

 

“ANYWAY,” JJ says, “I’m gay. See ya.”

 

She tries to run off but Jordan reaches over the arm of the couch, pulling her by the back of her shirt and making her fall into his and Beyoncé’s laps. 

 

“Can’t outrun your old man, JJ,” he says.

 

JJ lays there, eyes flickering from Jordan to Beyoncé. 

 

“Do you guys not care or are you just ignoring me ‘cause you don’t wanna believe it?” JJ asks nervously.

 

“You can’t slick a can of oil, baby,” Beyoncé says, smoothing her hand over JJ’s hair so that it’s out of her face and she can look her in the eye. 

 

“Yeah, we’ve been here at  _ least  _ 21 more years than you,” Jordan tells JJ, “We’re smart.”

 

“We spot things a million times earlier than you do, we’re supposed to. We’re your parents, Jordan,” she tells JJ, “That’s how I know what you’re doing minutes before you do it.”

 

“So you’ve always known?” JJ asks.

 

“Yep,” Jordan and Beyoncé say in unison.

 

“You’re welcome,” Beyoncé says, “and your dad feels the same, I bet.”

 

“Why?” 

 

“Your mom invited Kylie to your christening and I kept asking Prince to babysit.”

 

Jordan is not surprised. He will always be surprised by things his oldest child does, but this instance is not news to him. He’s just glad he’s done well enough as a dad so far that JJ felt comfortable telling him what he knows already.

 

“Anyway!” JJ says. 

 

“What are you gonna do about your ‘boyfriend?’” Jordan asks, recalling how they talked and Jordan couldn’t hold his laughter at him back. Poor guy.

 

“About that…” JJ trails off.

 

“What?”

 

“Can you call him on the phone and tell him you made me stop talking to him or something?” JJ asks.

 

Jordan doesn’t mind, he can totally work on his acting skills. 

 

Beyoncé brings Jordan a phone and JJ dials her boyfriend’s number. Jordan waves at JJ to get her to leave the room, covering the receiver. 

 

“Can’t get into character with you here.”

 

JJ obliges. 

 

“Michael, hello? This is Jordan’s father,” Jordan says in his “I’m totally not a cool dad” tone, “We need to talk, son.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I don’t like the influence you’re having on my daughter.”

 

“I’m sorry?” Poor guy sounds confused.

 

“She’s been skipping class, not studying, skipping out on dinner to talk on the phone with you and run up phone bill,” Jordan says sternly, “I don’t appreciate it.”

 

“I-“

 

“Ah, I don’t wanna hear it. I’m asking that you not call or visit here anymore. If I hear about you trying anything with my daughter at school, I’ll be forced to show up and handle it, understand?” 

 

“I’m-“

 

“Got it?”

 

“Yes sir. I’m sorry.”

 

“Good talk.”

 

Jordan hangs up and sighs. Beyoncé’s hand moves from his shoulder to his chest. She looks at him, smiling.

 

“What?” Jordan asks, cheeks pink because he always gets like that around Beyoncé.

 

“You’re such a DILF,” Beyoncé coos happily, kissing him on the cheeks, “Super sexy.”

 

Jordan scowls. 

 

“What is that?”

 

“‘Dad I’d like to fuck,’” Beyoncé explains.

 

Jordan grins. He’ll keep that one. He’s picking Beyoncé up and trudging up the stairs with her, her arms around his neck.

 

“I still got it, huh?”

 

“Yeah,” Beyoncé says, “You do.”

 

Before he goes to his and Beyoncé’s bedroom, he stops in front of JJ’s door.

 

“Michael’s out of your hair,” he says.

 

JJ pokes her head out of the door, smiling. 

 

“Thanks, Dad.”

 

She doesn’t have to stand on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. That pains him, but a lot of things about JJ could be worse, so he’s not that upset. 

  
  


* * *

 

 

III.  Kid #1 [2:33 AM]: dsd

 

Kid #1 [2:34 AM]: i need help with mrgunsl prvate cist

 

Jordan’s phone buzzes on the nightstand next to him and he groggily reaches for it, groaning as he slowly wakes up. He scowls at the brightness of his phone that has a harsh effect on his eyes because he’s so tired and the room is so dark, but he also frowns at JJ being up so late. He shuffles to her room, gently knocking on the door and listening for a response.

 

“Come in,” she says, clearly tired.

 

Jordan frowns again.

 

“Why’re you up, kid? It’s almost 3,” he says, moving some of her papers carefully and sitting on her bed.

 

“My only final is tomorr- today,” JJ says, near tears, “and I can’t understand  _ any  _ of this.”

 

Jordan’s heartbroken; JJ’s so smart, she’s in the top ten percent of her graduating class, but she still beats herself up over one class she has a 79 in. He’s about to save the day once again.

 

“What subject is it?” Jordan asks.

 

“Micro,” JJ says sadly.

 

“Ah,” Jordan says knowingly. He thinks he passed on some kind of ‘sucks at microeconomics’ gene onto JJ, because he sucked at it in high school as well. He only got better at it when he didn’t need it: In college. “Want me to help?”

 

“Please?” JJ says, bursting into tears like every kid does when they’re tired and life is… life, “Like, it’s so hard and I don’t understand why I just can’t  _ get it _ , like almost everyone else can but I can’t and-”

 

Jordan wipes at her tears and lets her cry hard for a minute, her head on his chest. He pats her on the back, stands up, and looks at his daughter, praying that the decision he’s decided to make doesn’t come back to bite him in the ass. 

 

“I’ll be back, okay?” he says gently.

 

“Okay,” JJ says, still sounding like she’s six years old and getting reassured that the scrape she’s gotten on her knee’s gonna heal.

 

Jordan runs to his room, lifting up a few shoeboxes in his closet until he finds the drug stash he’d hidden a little better since the last time he’d gotten arrested and he finds adderall, takes one pill out, and runs back to JJ, knowing she, like every kid, keeps too many water bottles in her room. He holds his hand out to her, crouching down to make eye contact with her.

 

“Here’s what we’re gonna do: You’re gonna take this, please don’t do anything worse than weed in the future for my sanity, and we’re gonna go over this and you’re gonna go in there and kick some ass so you can graduate and I can kill myself when you’re gone,” Jordan says, very truthful, making JJ laugh.

 

He has two other kids that he loves just as much, sure, but he’s not ready to have a house that doesn’t have JJ in it. JJ’s his first kid, his (in a weird sense) trial run, his carbon copy. For 18 years, all he’s known is a house with 3 kids running around in it, and now that’s going down to two, and he’s so unprepared- so, so unprepared- and he’s terrified. For himself, for Beyoncé, too, but mostly for JJ; she’s gonna be out there all on her own- not really, because she’s going to NYU and Jordan’s schedule is flexible enough to where he can drop everything and drive/fly/etc. to her if needed, but knowing her, she probably won’t because she’s so smart.

 

Jordan’s so deep in thought that he doesn’t feel the hot tears stinging in his eyes.

 

“Okay, I’m ready,” JJ says, taking a deep breath.

 

“I’ll be back, sorry,” Jordan says, shuffling to the bathroom that she has connected to her room and closing the door softly. He sits on the edge of the bathtub and cries quietly. He’s being dramatic, maybe, but he really won’t know how to function without JJ around. He wipes his eyes, washes his face, and steps out of the bathroom.

 

“You’re gonna breeze through this.”

 

“Your eyes are red,” JJ says bluntly.

 

“Yeah, your old man’s PMS-ing,” Jordan jokes.

 

“What’s wrong?” JJ asks. She’s more focused than before, her eyes are red, too, because she’s been crying.

 

“Just thinking about how you’re not gonna need me in a few months,” Jordan says, sitting on the floor next to her bed, “It’s gonna be hard to deal with it.”

 

He feels JJ patting him on the head like she used to do when she was younger and he’d carry her on his shoulders. It almost makes him cry again.

 

“You’ll be fine. I cry about it, too… but we’ll live. We’re smart.”

 

Jordan straightens his face up immediately. That’s all he needed to hear.

 

* * *

  
  


 

       IV.  “Duck’s Delicatessen. For the girl with the duck laugh,” Jordan jokes as he holds the door open for Beyoncé, who’s duck-laughing and  _ very  _ pregnant.

 

They sit at the single table in the back; no cameras, nobody asking questions, just Jordan, Beyoncé, and fresh sandwiches. Beyoncé holds her pinkies out when she holds her sandwich and it makes Jordan smile. She looks extra… glowy this day it seems.

 

“You look extra glowy today, Bey,” Jordan tells her, hooking his pinky with hers because it’s out there.

 

Beyoncé smiles around a mouthful of pastrami sandwich, swallowing. There’s mustard on her cheek because of the sandwich being a little messy, so Jordan wipes it off with his thumb and resists the urge to put it in her mouth because he wants to have a normal day and not a sexually frustrated one. He wipes his finger on a napkin.

 

“Thank you, but I feel really fat today,” Beyoncé says, looking down at her stomach. “I feel funny, too, but I think it’s me being in a mood.”

 

“How’s everything?” Jordan asks, gesturing to his stomach and biting his sandwich.

 

“Fine… I think  _ I’m  _ just sleepy,” Beyoncé replies.

 

To be truthful, Jordan was, too- they only decided to go out because they’d been sitting in the house for weeks and needed some fresh air. It was 8 PM and Jordan was already ready to turn in. Strange for him, not for Beyoncé.

 

“You wanna go home, champ?” Jordan asks, still holding her pinky with his own.

Beyoncé puts her sandwich down, groaning and whispering. 

 

“I have to pee  _ so  _ bad. Come with me?” she asks.

 

Jordan almost questions why she’d need help in the bathroom, but he remembers her situation and helps her out of her seat, asking someone to watch their food for them. Watching her waddle around is funny, but he only laughs, smiles about it when her head is turned. When her head whips around to see if he’s behind her, his face straightens out immediately. She grabs his hand for the short walk, mumbling about how their kid’s tap dancing on her bladder. She goes to the bathroom and he rests his head on the door, almost falling asleep until he hears the toilet flush. She walks out of the bathroom and back to their table, picking their food up.

 

“Jordy, I wanna go home. I can barely keep my eyes open, baby,” Beyoncé says, sounding just as tired as she describes herself to be, she’s so cute, he thinks, and he nods.

 

He holds her hand as they step out of the restaurant and she freezes, her hand on her stomach. Jordan immediately thinks about the baby.

 

“No,” he says, shocked.

 

“Jordan-”

 

“Oh, my God,” he says, rushing her to the car that’s parked at a garage a few blocks away because he’s a dumbass. She’s waddling along, breathing in and out quickly. “She’s not due ‘til tomorrow.”

 

He’s opening the door for her and she’s not getting in.

 

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Jordan asks, a little frantic because he’s about to be a father.

 

“I don’t wanna get your seats wet, we should put something down-”

 

“They’re gonna get soaked through, covered or not, baby, let’s go. It’s fine, okay? Please, let’s go,” he drags the last vowel out and kisses her on the forehead, watching her get into the car before hopping into it himself and speeding to the hospital, thank God for sports cars, running who knows how many red lights to get there. 

 

“How’re you holding up?” Jordan asks, anxiously tapping his fingers on the steering wheel when he stops at the one light Beyoncé begged him to stop at because she’s smarter than him and knows cops hang out around the area they’re in.

 

The light turns green and Jordan is speeding again, glancing from Beyoncé mid-contractions to the street. When Jordan pays an expensive and horrible fee to park illegally in front of the hospital without getting told on, he’s rushing Beyoncé into the waiting room. He’s going crazy, calling immediate family and following Beyoncé where they try to wheel her off to next. When she finally lands in the hospital bed after what seems like eons, Jordan’s pulling a chair up to the bed, disregarding the horrid scraping sounds it’s making, and sitting next to the bed, holding her hand. Tina, her husband Daryl, and Jordan are the only ones allowed in the room as she goes through labor; it’s the longest four hours of Jordan’s life, but the most impactful.

 

He feels a bruise on his hand beginning to form where Beyoncé had it in a vise grip, but he doesn’t care, because he blinks and he sees a baby in the doctor’s arms and then it’s in Beyoncé’s and then… it’s in his. 

 

The baby’s a girl. Her eyes aren’t open yet but it doesn’t matter because she’s really there, breathing the same air as him. She’s his  _ daughter _ , his first one too, so there’s a lot of pressure. That doesn’t matter either, at least not right now, because he has another person to give his undying love do and share his whole life with.

 

“Got any name ideas?” Jordan asks after ages of not being able to pull his gaze away from the baby in his arms.

 

“Look at the time,” Beyoncé says, tired but glowing even more than usual, a slightly startling amount- like she’s an angel.

 

Jordan looks. It’s three in the morning, September 8th. His birthday. Tears sting at his eyes.

 

“We’re twins, kid,” Jordan says to the baby crying in his arms.

 

“Jordan,” Beyoncé says.

 

“Yeah?” he answers, handing Beyoncé the baby because he  _ guesses _ she should see them too.

 

“Name her Jordan,” Beyoncé says.

 

“Wh-”

 

“Something’s just telling me that’s it. Please,” Beyoncé tells him, looking at her newborn child like she’s her world. He can relate.

 

“I… don’t mind.”

 

He’ll feel weird about naming a child after himself for a few weeks, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that he has one in the first place.

 

“Hey, Jordan-”

 

Beyoncé cuts him off.

 

“JJ. Jordan Jr.”

 

Jordan takes in a deep breath, yawning for the first time all night.

 

“JJ, I’m Jordan.”


End file.
